Red Flowers
by follow the halo
Summary: The grand vizier falls in love with the princess. However, jealous ministers are determined to pull them apart.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything; Jafar and Jasmine belong to Disney.

This story was influenced by the tragic story of Jafar ibn Yahya al Barmaki who was the grand vizier of Caliph Harun al Rashid, yes the famous Arabian Nights one. He was beheaded allegedly due to his affair with the Caliph's sister Abbasa.

It was a fine morning in Aghrabah, the sultan was sitting in the royal gardens, sipping his tea and reclining on cushions. The tent he sat in shaded him from the sun's rays. The morning mist was cool in the air; the sun had not risen high in the sky. The sultan called out, "Jasmine, my daughter, come and accompany me in the garden."

From out of her bedroom in the harem complex, Jasmine came dressed in a fine silk garment, edged with gold thread. A sheer silk veil obscured her face, only her eyes could be seen. Jafar the vizier could only look upon the dark kohl-lined depths of her eyes and wonder what thoughts lie beneath the surface. The sultan enjoyed having both his daughter and Jafar join him in times of recreation. However, he made sure that he never let them both out of his sight. Thus, it was that Jafar found himself sitting with the princess in the presence of her father, the sultan.

It was said that the princess of Agrabah was of great beauty. Indeed, no one has ever seen the princess or set foot in the harem except for the sultan himself. The harem contained the private living quarters of the sultan and the princess, thus no one was allowed access as the palace guards guarded it.

Walking over to the flowerbeds, the sultan stopped at the jasmine flowerbed. "Jafar, tell us, what is the meaning of Jasmine?" the sultan asked.

"The name Jasmine comes from the Persian word 'yasmin', meaning gift of God," Jafar replied.

"Jasmine, your mother named you Jasmine because you were our gift from God," the sultan affectionately told his daughter.

"Ya baba, I do not think myself much of a gift after all the trouble I have caused you while growing up." Jasmine gave a lighthearted reply.

The sultan burst out laughing. "Nonsense! You are my precious gift, nour el ein, the light of my eyes."

While the sultan remained at the jasmine section reminiscing about his wife who had passed away, the princess wandered towards the tulips that had begun flowering, remaining in her father's sight. The batch of tulips had arrived from Persia, a gift from the sultan of Persia.

"Jafar al-Barmaki, you are Persian are you not?" The vizier had gray eyes the color of smoke, foreign and exotic unlike the brown eyes of her father and those of the other courtiers. His proud aristocratic features were complemented with a firm body after all the training with the palace guards, one she admired from behind the carved wooden screens in the palace. The princess looked away, controlling her gaze. Her hands reached out to hold a blood red tulip. "Tell me, according to the Persians, what is the story behind the tulip?"

"A sturdy Persian youth named Farhad, a prince some say, was deeply in love with the fair maid Shirin. One day, word reached him, false word as it tragically turned out, that his beloved had been killed. Gripped by unbearable grief, he mounted his favorite horse and galloped over a cliff to his death. From his numerous wounds droplets of blood trickled onto the ground. From each drop of blood a scarlet tulip sprang, a symbol of his perfect love. So it was that in ancient Persia the red tulip became a symbol of passionate love."

Their eyes met. On impulse, Jafar plucked the red tulip that Jasmine had been holding and gave it to her.

The sound of crashing glass, Jasmine no longer cared as she broke all the fine china she could get her hands on. How could this have happened? The ministers were accusing Jafar of treason and were waiting to sentence him as soon as he got back from his trip to Istanbul.

"Princess, why are you crying?" Jafar asked.

"Father, he listened to the other ministers. They said you were crossing the line, that you were getting too powerful."

"What!"

A crash sounded, the door to the princess's chamber doors were opened. Palace guards had come to bring Jafar to the sultan. Dragging Jafar roughly, the guards showed no mercy.

"Jafar!"

"Jasmine!"

Jafar was brought to trial. "So, you think I am a fool! You think I don't know what you are doing!" the sultan raised his voice in anger.

"Pray tell me, why am I punished?"

The ministers gathered heaped him with scorn. "You have crossed the line, Persian. You think you can become sultan by seducing the princess?"

Realization dawned on Jafar. The other ministers were jealous of his power that he, a Persian, an outsider, had managed to become grand vizier. When they knew of his romance with the princess, they were afraid for their positions and jealous that he had the princess's affection.

"Your highness, I beg you, do not make this mistake. Have I not served you faithfully all these years?" Jafar pleaded.

"Then you deny your relationship with my daughter?"

"No, my love for Jasmine is true."

The ministers protested, "Liar! Do not believe him, your highness!"

"How can I believe you Jafar when all the ministers here attest to your disrespectful behavior with the princess?" asked the sultan.

Jafar cried out at this injustice. "The only time I meet with the princess is when you are around! I have never done anything to tarnish her honor!"

"Silence! I do not wish to listen to your lies. I hereby sentence you to death by beheading at sunrise."

The princess heard the sentence, knowing that her father's heart had hardened and he will not listen to her pleas. That night, Jasmine secretly came to the prison where Jafar was held before his execution.

"Jafar, my love," Jasmine gently held his face in her hands which was badly beaten up by the prison guards.

"Jasmine!" Jafar could not stop the tears in his eyes. Jasmine felt grief that they couldn't even hug each other, and could only grasp each other's hands through the prison bars.

"Jasmine, I want you to place a red rose on my grave. Will you do this for me?"

"_Jafar, tell me the Persian legend of the red rose."_

"_A nightingale __was captivated by the beauty of a white rose, he strongly, strongly embraced her. Flower spikes pierced his heart, and blood bird painted rose petals._ _Therefore, it has become a symbol of sacrifice of true love in Persia, for the love that you can sacrifice everything."_

"_Will you sacrifice everything for me, Jafar?"_

"_Yes."_

"Yes."

**I almost cried after finishing this story. **


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Aladdin.

A/N: This is both the beginning and the end of my other story Red Flowers. Thanks for putting up with the ramblings of an Arabian Nights-crazy person. And if you're wondering where Aladdin is, I don't have a good answer to that. You'll just have to search for him, I guess.

Jafar took a freshly cut tulip, a bright scarlet, and the color of blood. From his tower, he sent a pigeon, each claw clutching the edge of a silken handkerchief. Gently, he placed the tulip stalk in the little handkerchief, and set it off to his beloved.

In her tower, Jasmine eagerly anticipated the scratch of tiny pigeon claws striking her marble window ledge. A bright red tulip! Jasmine blushed, thinking of Jafar. The symbol of their passionate love, though they may be in separate towers and must never meet unaccompanied, they kept their love alive with the pigeons they sent to each other. Absentmindedly feeding the pigeon, Jasmine thought about how she kept one pigeon while Jafar kept its mate. If only, she could be like this pigeon, free to fly towards her beloved.

Taking a pen, she wrote,

If you can tolerate my absence, I cannot stand yours. I miss you.

Rolling up the paper, she attached it into a small tube and attached it to the bird's leg. Holding the pigeon in her hand, she calmed the bird with a few pats. "You must be anxious to meet your mate, hush now, be calm, lest people know of your presence." Releasing the pigeon, she smiled as it flew speedily away to Jafar's tower.

Fly, my lonely bird of time,

never will we know if our love is true,

at night I sleep and dream of you,

only to awake in my empty room.

One night, the princess was restless and unable to sleep. Startled, she heard a flurry of wings at her window.

As I am the nightingale, you are the rose whose thorns pierce my heart, turning the rose red.

And another message:

Do not worry my love, I will be away to Istanbul. Pray that I come back safe.

Numb, that was how the princess felt. Everything in the palace gardens reminded her of Jafar. 'How could the flowers bloom so? When my lover is no longer of this earth?' she thought.

A caged nightingale, brought forth by a party of ministers, gloating on their success. They wound Jasmine with every barbed insult to Jafar al-Barmaki, mocking him even in death. When they saw the princess, they paused in their merrymaking.

"Let the nightingale go, let it be free," Jasmine ordered.

"But princess, this bird has been bought to sing for our entertainment," they protested. However, they did not wish to give reason for an early dismissal and grudgingly complied.

Suddenly, the sultan showed up. "Jasmine, since they have let the nightingale go, you shall have to tell us a story," the sultan said merrily, though his eyes were pleading.

"Or else, what will you do? Have me executed the next morning?" Jasmine said cynically, remembering Jafar.

She felt pang of pity in her heart when she saw her father's stricken expression. Try as she might, she could not bear to hurt him, even when he had caused her so much pain.

Sitting on a cushion, she began her tale, "There was once a poor boy from the streets by the name of Aladdin…


End file.
